[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Five 14/20 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 14/20

Author: Helen Raven

Email: helenraven at talk21.com

Pairing: Wesley/Gunn

Summary: The full history of the relationship between
Gunn and Wesley in the Birthdayverse. A novel in six
parts.

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not even a blip
on the litigation radar.

The Story's Home Page: http://www.kelper.co.uk/kungai

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On the tapes, Angel never tried to talk to Wesley.
Gunn could never be sure if he was truly lucid, but in
the times when he seemed closest he would be calling
out to Gunn, telling him not to be angry with Wesley,
taking all the blame on himself. He didn't refer to
Gunn's message, or not directly. "You know him, you -
Maybe he does need that, to have you - To have you
take over. Stop him... thinking as himself. Let him...
start to forget. But don't - Don't make him do the
opposite, don't make him join in. I know you want to
show him, but - You can't guess what they're like. You
think you can use them. To shock him. To stop him -
But you'd never get clean. Your new prisoner... No,
you can't be kind now but - You can be nothing. Don't
make him - You can be nothing."

Was that lucid? Lucid with a thick layer of
Angel-style theories, maybe. Like them having a new
prisoner. If there were times when he was clear enough
to know that there was no new prisoner, just Wesley
next door without a key, there was no hint of it on
the tape. So either he never woke lucid or he saw the
message as soon as he opened his eyes, and lay there
as silent as Wesley.

Angelus definitely saw the message, and it made him
want to meet Gunn; he liked Gunn's style, wanted to
hear more about the gag, about how Angel had got
himself into trouble, thought he could make it worth
Gunn's while to bring the man in for sharing with or
without the gag. Gunn hit fast-forward as soon as
Angelus appeared - after all, Wesley would never try
to talk to Angelus - but he heard enough to feel
guilty about Wesley having to sit and listen to the
whole thing. He tried to offer sympathy when he went
into the bedroom after the first time of hearing
Angelus on the tape, tried to bond over a year's
experience of Angelus being loud and descriptive but
Wesley just frowned at him, like he was wondering why
Gunn wouldn't just shut up and go away.

Mostly, though, the tape caught the sounds of
nightmares and hallucinations, and it was rarely easy
to tell which was which. The fake visions, OK, no
mistaking those; and they also meant that the sounds
beforehand must have been a nightmare. Not that it
mattered - what difference could it make to anyone? -
but after a few days Gunn was making a game of trying
to guess: how many states would there be on the tape?
and what would they be? His rules for scoring were
tough, and any points he got for being right could be
wiped out completely if there was a state that he
couldn't identify. When he reached a hundred points he
was going to buy himself a new computer game, and this
gave him the incentive to go right into the room when
he was leaving or taking the tape-recorder, because
then he could see whether or not Angel was awake. Was
that cold-blooded? Was that like something the real
guards would do? But he wasn't treating it like a
joke, he was just... Maybe trying to remind himself
that the tape made it sound worse, all run together.
Angel's mind did let him be quiet sometimes, it did
let him sleep. The game was just about dealing with
listening to the tape.

* * * * *

"You're not feeding him. He was lucid this morning, I
think you could have fed him. We still have ten pints
of blood." The first words that Wesley had addressed
directly to Gunn in three days. Gunn had gone out to
have a Sunday breakfast by the beach, and when he got
back Wesley was waiting for him, standing just inside
the door. Wesley was pretty calm, just stating a fact
- but an important fact.

"Y're right, I'm not. He been complainin'?"

"When are you going to feed him?"

Gunn shrugged. "When I feel like doin' somethin' for
him. No sign'a that yet." And Wesley nodded like he
accepted that, like it was another simple fact but
then he took one of his books and went into the
bedroom, and as far as Gunn knew he stayed there for
the rest of the day.

* * * * *

Soon Gunn found it difficult to imagine Wesley talking
to him again, or talking to anyone. In his sleep, in
the first few days, he'd whisper and shush himself
("It's him. You know what he'd do. He's not... We keep
him out."). And then he did this thing of gabbling,
too fast for Gunn to catch more than one word in ten;
the words would pour out for ten, twenty seconds, and
he'd go tense enough that he'd almost be sitting up in
bed, and then the words would cut off and he'd sink
back until the next one hit. Yeah, it was kind of like
a vision; that urgent, that random. Now, in the last
few nights, he'd started talking normally, but not in
English. A demon language, Gunn thought, something
that flowed and swayed. It was easy to sleep through,
and Gunn's guess was that he'd never find out how long
they lasted, those calm, serious conversations.
Sometimes Wesley still gabbled, but now that wasn't in
English either.

The demon language must be something that Wesley was
translating for Lilah Morgan. Gunn worked that out on
Wednesday night when the tape had Wesley getting a
phone call, and then answering it entirely in that
language. Angel reacted so strongly to the sound -
shaking in his chains, and panting - that Gunn's first
thought was, "Angel understands what he's saying.
Wesley called himself from the cellphone. He's talking
to Angel, that's who." But he used *69, and that was
Lilah's number, calling an hour ago. Probably the
other translator or something, calling from a
late-night meeting in Lilah's office, put on to pick
holes in the work that Wesley handed over that
morning. Yeah, no wonder he was obsessing, dreaming in
that language; he'd played it super-cool, though,
during that call. And Angel probably hadn't understood
anything, he'd just recognised Wesley's voice - and it
made him pant and quiver like an eager dog.

* * * * *

On Thursday evening, when Gunn was getting himself a
second beer, he pulled out the drawer just to look at
the blood stacked in there, just to freak himself out
about having got to this state over a vampire, and
there weren't ten pints, there were only seven.

So Wesley had figured out how to pick the lock.

Yeah, he could've got the tools on Wednesday, when he
was out for his meeting with Lilah Morgan. He was
going in there, and stopping the tape, and... Well,
how far was he going? Was he talking to Angel? Was he
touching him?

There weren't any new bruises, so the sex he was
having with Angel must be a lot like the sex he was
having with Gunn. OK, if he was having it. Angel
wasn't chained right for them to lie on the mattress
and kiss; he could only lie on his right side, and
Gunn simply couldn't imagine Wesley lying on his left
side for sex, not even for Angel.

And talking... Would they really both be able to
forget about Gunn's message, right there in front of
them? Especially Wesley, when his sulking was all
about how far Gunn had gone to show that he didn't
trust Wesley.

Yeah, right, when now Gunn knew that he hadn't gone
far enough. This time he wasn't going to give Wesley
the option of confessing, he was going to catch him in
the act. He thought of setting up a second tape, maybe
hidden next to the camera, or of some booby-trap for
the lock or the door so Wesley wouldn't be able to
close it afterwards, and the proof would be all over
him.

Tempting but too complicated, and still not "in the
act". He'd got too used to the idea of leaving them
alone, setting himself free to do his own thing. For
something like this, you had to be prepared to sit it
out. He'd use the monitor. He knew the signal would
reach as far as the street, so he'd take the receiver
and sit it out in the truck at the corner of the
building. If he left the apartment when Angel was
lucid, then Wesley would probably go in to feed him
straight away, and there wouldn't be long to wait.

Would Wesley be listening for the sound of the truck
driving away? Maybe. Gunn didn't forget things, had
never had to come back for something, but Wesley must
have heard that sound so many times, some part of his
brain would go on alert if a part of the routine went
missing.

So he'd drive away for a few blocks, come back as
quickly as he could. Be even better if he could swap
the truck, maybe for a car from the crew, but - No,
not enough time, too many questions.

Wesley was already asleep, already in the middle of
one of his conversations. A relief, really, because
Gunn had been ready to push him away, tell him "not
tonight" (brain firmly in charge, body stripped of its
vote) and that might have given Wesley too much
warning that Gunn was planning something.

The next morning Angel woke around eleven - Gunn heard
him sitting up - and he was quiet enough that he might
be lucid. Gunn sent Wesley to the bedroom, and yes,
Angel knew who he was, and knew that he'd written the
message, only today he wasn't in any mood to plead, he
was in the mood to stare at Gunn and at the message
and hate them both.

Gunn had put the receiver with his files the night
before. He took a couple of sodas and a bag of cookies
and yelled to Wesley that he'd be back some time after
two.

Silence. Not even the sound of the chains. How did
Angel keep so still? Maybe he didn't know that he was
about to see Wesley. Maybe he thought he'd dreamed it,
or that it was years in the past. Yeah, if Angel knew,
then why would he act like he hated the message? If he
knew, he'd act like it was a joke, like Gunn was a
joke because Gunn had said that he'd stop Wesley, he'd
made threats and now Wesley had made him look like a
fool.

So Angel didn't know or... Or Wesley was still showing
some respect. He had to break some rules to get in and
feed Angel, but maybe he didn't even want to take
advantage. Maybe he just shook his head when Angel
wanted to talk. Wanted to give him some new bruises.
Maybe he just pointed at the message.

Gunn would find out.

And then what would be do?

No, he wouldn't go in the room. Catching them with the
door open, that would be enough. He'd yell at Wesley
to get his clothes back on and come out, and then...
No, he didn't know what he'd do, not if he'd heard
more than feeding.

Fact was, the nearest thing he could feel wasn't rage,
it was despair, like if he had just two ounces less
pride, he might end up on his knees, asking Wesley if
there was anything he could do that would make him as
important to Wesley as Angel was. Even one tenth as
important. But he wasn't going to do that. And he
wasn't going to leave, so...

They had to work together, they had to agree on the
new rules together. So he wouldn't start by telling
Wesley, he'd start by asking him. Asking him how
quickly he could stop sulking if that would change
Gunn's mind about feeding Angel. He'd say,
"Immediately," and Gunn would say, "How many days
would you need to see that before you believed it? If
you were me?" And they'd agree on a date (four days,
maybe, a week?), and Gunn would do all he could to
make the waiting easy on Wesley, have him want to act
normal for his own sake not just for Angel's.

Yeah, focus on that, on the feeding. For the talking
and the fucking... he'd promise himself here and now
that he wouldn't do anything, no matter what he found,
not for at least a day.

Angel was moving. Lying down, it sounded like. How
long would it take a vampire to go weak from hunger?
And what the hell was Wesley waiting for? If he left
it another half an hour Angel might be asleep again.

At 12.22, Angel started talking to himself, very
quietly, in an ordinary dream. "I thought I'd ask him
to come in. When I saw him in the corridor, I thought,
'You were in my bed.' But he says he can't." That was
all Gunn could make out and then there was silence
again - until 12.49 when Angelus appeared, very, very
hungry and dreaming about having too much choice about
who to take first.

Gunn had thought his stakeout wouldn't last more than
ten minutes. If he'd been planning around covering the
full three hours, he would probably have let himself
go get a burrito as soon as he heard Angelus. A
twenty-minute break. That would have been safe. Wesley
would never go in that close to Angelus.

He finally gave up at two, when Wesley would start
expecting him back, and he ate his burrito while
taking a walk in Alondra Park. Wesley must have heard
the truck or noticed the receiver was gone. He'd need
another plan. Probably have to leave it a couple of
days. Push Wesley away for a couple of nights until he
knew for sure.

He got home around 2.40. Angelus was still there but
awake now, and Gunn didn't even step into the room,
but opened the door enough to reach down and take the
recorder. He set it to rewind then went to get another
soda, and discovered that there were six pints now,
when there'd been seven that morning.

Wesley had not gone into Angel's room. Gunn knew for a
fact that he hadn't. So what had Wesley done? And had
he done the same with the other three pints?

Gunn waited for Wesley to come out of the bedroom, but
didn't give him the time to sit down at his desk.
"What are you doin' with the blood? What're you doin'
while I'm gone? We're down to six pints now."

Wesley looked surprised, like he'd forgotten about the
blood and couldn't imagine why it was any of Gunn's
business. Then he gave a short, bored sigh, and turned
his back on Gunn to go to his desk. Gunn wanted to
shake him, really wanted to fuck him, wanted to say
something to make him admit that it was absolutely
Gunn's business. Something like... if Wesley was
trying to guilt-trip him into feeding Angel, he'd made
a big mistake with the ultra-British, super-subtle
bullshit. "Man, you'da done better to hire a singin'
telegram." But Wesley would just blank him, leave him
looking twice the fool he'd felt before.

"Yeah, why'd I ask? I'm the one you won't talk to.
Guess I'll just have to watch, see what you do when
you run out."

He put the recorder back in Angel's room then went
back to the park and ran until the light started to
go. After that he dropped in on the crew to see if he
could get a good sword-fight or any kind of fight, and
he ended up staying until gone eleven, when they went
out on patrol. Of course he couldn't join them,
because of the visions, but God he missed that: the
territory, the daily purpose. He'd had that with
Wesley, when they'd been Wyndham-Gunn. So he went on a
patrol of his own - well, a tour, really - of places
they'd been sent on visions. Not trying to be
complete: not as far out as Montebello where those
kids had been trying to raise a Havelte as a pet, and
it was enough to drive past the power site, he didn't
have to go down into the tunnels. At Hermosa Beach,
around one, he decided he'd had enough (so many
memories of Angel getting worse), and he turned around
and went looking for a diner.

He should be relieved right now. He should be happy.
Wesley picking the lock, sneaking in to see his
vampire: that had only happened in Gunn's imagination.
Now he knew Wesley accepted how he was treating Angel,
he knew Wesley respected his rules. So what if Wesley
had this thing of slowly throwing out pig's blood? For
all Gunn knew, it had the same reason as the demon
language that Wesley talked in his sleep. Just Wesley
being Wesley. He should be relieved.

You'd think he wanted to see Wesley guilty and
ashamed. That he couldn't get enough of hearing Wesley
say that he didn't deserve Gunn. No, he wanted Wesley
happy. In the end, that was all he wanted.

How was that going to happen, though, if Wesley
wouldn't even talk to him? For a few hours there he'd
thought he had the answer: the feeding. He'd thought
that Wesley was desperate to get Angel fed, enough
that he'd agree to anything - and so they'd get a new
start. But instead he'd found that Wesley had
accepted, and where was his leverage now?

OK, if he wasn't going to agree with Wesley on the
date for feeding Angel, then he'd agree it with
himself. A week from tomorrow. Or the day that Wesley
threw away the last pint. Whichever came first. He'd
go out immediately and get some fresh blood, and he'd
tell Wesley what he'd decided. Maybe Wesley would come
with him to the butcher's. Maybe Wesley would thank
him. That might be their new start.

* * * * *

Wesley didn't take any of the blood over the weekend,
but he took a pint on Monday and two on Tuesday. He
was sleeping a lot, going to bed hours before Gunn. He
never woke up when Gunn settled against him, but he
always nestled closer. Sometimes he pressed his lips
against Gunn's skin, or whispered in that language.
The sex, though, that seemed to be over for now.

* * * * *


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